Tea & Compromise
by cestmoi01
Summary: He waited for a moment, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed against his chest...and fancied he could almost see the cogs turning in the Vulcan’s sharp mind..." The beginning of a legendary frienship. Jim's POV, introspective, pre-series.


**Disclaimer:** I own neither of these fine male specimens, sadly.

**A/N:** This was written for round one of trek_exchange, for wren10514. The prompt was "tea, sympathy, compromise." I had intended for this to be just the beginning of a much larger piece, but it was already so late that I decided to just post this. I'm afraid that as a result, I didn't quite get to the slash aspect that the prompter requested, but that may be fixed with a series of sequels. For now, though, this can be read by itself as gen or Kirk/Spock pre-slash.

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**Tea & Compromise**  
_by cestmoi01_

Captain James T. Kirk strode – because he never could get the hang of simply walking – down the hallways of the _Enterprise_, a soft, contented smile hanging at the corners of his lips and hovering in his eyes. Remaining connected to his lovely lady, his beautiful _Enterprise_, by a finger or two gently brushing along her sturdy walls and bulkheads, Jim's obvious preoccupation with his new rank and the acquisition of his dream ship – and he doubted he would ever get over the fact that she was finally his! – was an excellent mask for his covert glances at the man keeping pace beside him.

Spock, his new Science and First Officer, who walked alongside him with his hands clasped behind his back, bore the serene countenance, pointed ears, and angled eyebrows distinctive of the Vulcan race. From this, Jim knew that the other man was probably frustratingly logical, and possibly deathly, incessantly, serious. Jim, however, preferred not to judge someone on the stereotypes of his, her, or its species – no matter how often such stereotypes held true – hence his observation of the other man. From his file, he already knew that Spock was not quite your average Vulcan, having a human mother and being one of the first to join Starfleet, and Jim was curious to see if these differences manifested themselves in the other man's actions – if Spock would be discernably different from the, admittedly few, other Vulcans he had worked with.

Jim hoped so. The two of them would have to work closely together, after all, and while he knew that theoretically, Spock's logic and his own gut instinct would play off each other well, he also knew that if both of them were unbending in their attitudes, tensions would be high. And Jim wanted to run a tight ship, not an uptight ship. Well, he was willing to compromise, at least, to try to meet the other man halfway so that they could get along. Command was a lonely thing, and there were few people the Captain could let his guard down around. The First Officer being one of them, Jim hoped that he and Spock might do better than get along – might, in fact, become good friends over the course of the five-year voyage. Well, time would tell, but there was no reason he couldn't start now.

Spock had conveniently ended the tour of the _Enterprise_ outside the Captain's quarters, and there the two of them stood – alone in the corridor, each with an arm outstretched to press the button that would open the door, staring at each other as though momentarily frozen in time. Then Jim blinked, Spock withdrew his hand, and Jim pressed the button. He stepped through the doorway, paused, and turned back.

"Would you like to come in for a drink? Perhaps a game of chess?"

Spock blinked.

Jim took it as an expression of surprise – or at least as much of a one as you could ever get from a Vulcan – and was inordinately pleased with himself. He waited for a moment, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed against his chest, watching, and fancied he could almost _see_ the cogs turning in the Vulcan's sharp mind, weighing the pros and cons of such an action.

"C'mon, Mister Spock." He gestured, grinning, towards the interior of his quarters – which he hadn't even seen yet – with a toss of his head. "I don't want to make it an order, but I _do_ want to get to know my First Officer."

And… _there_. Jim could see it – the lift of an eyebrow, the slight downturn of the lips, and a lightly furrowed brow; the moment when the Vulcan compromised. _Humor the strange human_, he imagined Spock thinking. _Perhaps he will not bother me later if I give him this now._

_Not likely_, Jim thought as he ushered the Vulcan inside, still grinning. He wasn't going to let this potential friend get away.

So. His turn to compromise, then. Spock wouldn't want anything alcoholic to drink, and he didn't have any Vulcan beverages on hand. However, there was that package from his mom…

"How about a cup of tea?"

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**A/N:** Feedback is love! This is my first time writing Star Trek through a strictly TOS lens, so I'm curious to know what y'all think.


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